


Ever Onward

by Larathia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larathia/pseuds/Larathia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Dalish Elf Warden, going back is impossible - but why go back when there's so much forward?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever Onward

The Clan was all. That was what she'd been taught. The Clan was all there was, all that mattered. There were other Dalish Clans, of course. Other Dalish. But they weren't _her_ clan. They weren't ...the same. And beyond that were only flat-ears and enemies, and often the two had been the same people.

And then that blasted _mirror_. And Tamlen. And _Merrill_. 

It was hard to say what had been more dangerous for her clan, in the end. The Blight, or the Dalish _need_ to recover what had been lost.

It was a little hard to wallow in self-pity, mind, after having met Zathrian's clan. And, well, Zathrian. But 'werewolf' was not an improvement on 'blighted' when then you could also get 'blighted werewolf'.

_We did this. Us. We did this to ourselves. We're still DOING it to ourselves. Not the shemlen. Not the flat-ears. Us._

If the gods of Elvhenan were still watching over their people, surely they had come to regard the lot of them as fools and children. 

It had almost killed her, realizing - in fighting the Blight, in meeting other clans and other races and seeing the same stupid over and over when death was kicking down the doors - that the Dalish weren't helping. Not the world, not even themselves. They'd sunk too far in bitterness over what had been lost. Too focused on the past to care much about the future. 

It had never mattered. At least, it never mattered until she'd seen the Archdemon outside of dreams. That was when she'd realized how small her life had been.

If it hadn't been for Tamlen and that blasted mirror, that _eluvian_ , she would have been content to stay with her clan for the whole of her life, taking potshots at shems and perfecting the hunter's craft. Even now, after the Blight had taken so much, that was all most of the Sabrae clan wanted.

But it wasn't enough for _her_.

Not anymore.

Warden Mahariel was not ready to die for the world when she'd only just started seeing it. She'd thrown the shem traitor at the dragon; shems had always enjoyed twisting histoy and she was sure they would do so again here. The point, from her perspective, was that she was alive and not dead.

But a Warden without a Blight was a bit...well. Out of place. And she couldn't go home. She was tainted, now. A Warden. She knew it. The clan knew it. And Wardens were not Elvhen - at least, their rituals and practices weren't, and that made it Not Of Interest to the clan. Neither did she really want to spend her life among shems who, by and large, had become Wardens because they didn't want to be imprisoned or executed.

So once her duty, as it were, was done, she'd handed over Amaranth and gone ....well, _exploring_. A few of the Clan were young enough to want to tag along, see the quickling world for themselves, and a few Wardens were so chaotic as to have difficulty with a life that involved getting up from the same bed at the same time every morning.

She'd told the world it was to go hunt straggler Darkspawn groups. And they _did_ kill darkspawn whenever they emerged. So there was some truth to it.

But all she wanted was to see the world. Not be taken a slave by Tevinter mages, or ...whatever the Chantry felt like doing to heretics. So. Travel in company, but travel. The Sabrae clan might still exist, but Warden Mahariel knew that she would never, could never, go home. There was just this little time between now and her Calling, and so much world.


End file.
